Rainbow for Megan Read Free

her father. It was decided between them that they would not mention their money worries to Alain. Megan knew her father was a proud man. 'He'll only offer to bail us out,' he commented.
    For reasons of her own, Megan wholeheartedly agreed with this decision. Ray Hallett's offer had come as a windfall—a much-needed one. It would give them the breathing space they required until they had got over the hump. 'Mind you, Meg, if you don't like the job you say so,' advised her father. 'We'll get by. I've several publishers in mind.'
    Planting a kiss on his bald pate, Megan said, 'I'm quite looking forward to it,' which was not quite truthful, as she was dreading the first few days.
    Before she prepared for bed that evening, Megan sorted out clothes suitable for secretarial work. There was not much choice, for her wardrobe was on the slender side. Practically living in sweaters and slacks, her stock of dresses was woefully low, but at last she found a dress of light cotton material that would suit the purpose. She wondered if Ray Hallett would object
    to her wearing trousers, and did not see why he should.
    Later, as she climbed into bed, she fervently hoped she would like the job and would be capable of holding it down. She also thought of Alain.
    He hadn't even bothered to ring and find out where she was, let alone call in on them. Of course, he was always very busy the first week back, she told herself, he had so many things to catch up on. Still, she thought sadly, he might at least have rung.
    The Foxes was a modern dwelling, and Megan, driving along its shrub-lined drive the following morning, trying to control the butterflies in her stomach, concentrated on the house in front of her. The previous owners who had had the house built, a retired bank manager and his wife, had never fitted in with the villagers. The man had been much too pompous and his wife of the opinion that money could buy anything. It was a help, Megan mused, but it hadn't bought them what they craved—bowing, scraping and servility from those they considered the yokels of the village. Finally they had given the villagers best and, after a few disparaging remarks on the unfriendliness of the locals, had left the district.
    Getting out of the car, she wondered whether Ray Hallett would fare any better. On first showing she doubted it. He had an air of cocksureness about him that would be bound to arouse a certain amount of resentment from a few villagers she could think of.
    Mr. Browne, for instance, on the District Council; a rather touchy character, but goodhearted when you got to know him. Of course, she mused as she walked to the door, Ray Hallett was a very successful man, and it must be very difficult not to let it go to your head. With his looks he was probably very successful in other ways, too. She wondered if he were married, although he had not mentioned a wife. Her thoughts were abruptly terminated at this point by the man himself answering the doorbell.
    `Good morning, Miss Shaw,' he said jovially. 'Do you mind if I call you Megan ?' he asked as he ushered her into the house. 'As we're going to work together, Miss Shaw is a bit formal, isn't it? Do come in, I'll show you to your den.'
    Megan had no objection to his using her Christian name—everybody else did except Alain, who for some unknown reason of his own called her 'Tuppence'.
    She followed him through the hall to a room at the end of a luxuriously carpeted corridor, then he opened the door and stood aside courteously for her to precede him into the room. She noticed that he was casually dressed, in a short-sleeved navy shirt and corduroy trousers. She thought she must remember to ask him if he objected to her wearing trousers, then realised suddenly that he wouldn't, and she didn't know why she had thought that he would.
    The room she entered was a miniature office, a desk
    complete with typewriter and dictating machine. Her eyes were riveted on the latter. She looked back at Ray